


Patience

by floweringbloom



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:23:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floweringbloom/pseuds/floweringbloom
Summary: Ichigo needs to have more patience, but he's very good at being Kisuke's distraction.





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> I spent way too much time reading through all the uraichi on AO3 these last few weeks and now I want mooore.
> 
> aka; cockwarming kink with established relationship feels.
> 
> (please note the tags! and let me know if you think I need to warn for anything else.)

Kisuke's working on something, Ichigo discovers when he pokes his head into his lab. He's sitting at a desk covered in paperwork, rubbing at his forehead as if to stave off a looming headache, and Ichigo's earlier impatience immediately fades to concern; when Ichigo steps into the room and closes the door behind him, he doesn't even look up from his work.

Ichigo doesn't bother him immediately. Threading his reiatsu through the kido locks that Tessai's been far-too-patiently teaching him is still a challenge if he doesn't want anything to explode, and by the time he's finished resetting them Kisuke's started watching him, eyes shadowed under the brim of his striped hat. "Hope you're not too busy," Ichigo says mildly, stepping closer. "I didn't see you last night."

Kisuke quirks an eyebrow at him. "Nothing interesting, I'm afraid, but it does need to be done. And you do tend to be... a terrible distraction."

Ichigo's closed the distance, leant in close, and he takes full advantage of it to brush Kisuke's hat off his head, setting it on the desk beside him. Kisuke's grey-green eyes are like steel edged with seafoam when Ichigo tips up his chin and kisses him, lingering and slow, and he makes a fond noise in his throat that sends a frisson of warmth down Ichigo's spine. "Here," Kisuke murmurs against his mouth, reaching up, and Ichigo lets him pull him down into his lap. 

"Thought you said I was a distraction." Ichigo's breath catches on the words as Kisuke sucks a bruise into the curve of his neck, blatantly possessive and impossible to hide. His mouth is warm and wet and familiar, his hands settling firmly on Ichigo's spread thighs. Ichigo presses his lips to Kisuke's hairline and breathes him in, the scent of ink and paper and the faint copper of old blood as his reiatsu unfurls against Ichigo's own; it's dark and dense and wanting, setting Ichigo's blood thrumming hot. Ichigo hisses a breath through his teeth, tugging at Kisuke's hair to kiss him again, hard.

Kisuke nips at his lower lip in retribution. "I suppose I can afford a short one."

"Short," Ichigo repeats flatly, knowing it's a barely layered tease, and Kisuke kisses his jawline to hide his sly smile.

"Were you not intending to distract me? I suppose it must be difficult to keep away, faced with one so charming and handsome as myself - "

"You," Ichigo growls, shoving him back in the chair, "should shut up."

He reaches for the ties of Kisuke's jinbei as Kisuke says, "Oh?" eyelashes lowered flirtatiously, hands sliding up Ichigo's thighs. Ichigo's suddenly regretting his jeans and t-shirt compared to Kisuke's easily bared skin, his chest pale and warm under Ichigo's palms. He can feel it when Kisuke breathes out: the sharp expansion of his lungs, the quickening beat of his heart. "Would you make me, Ichigo-kun?"

"Yes," Ichigo says. "Wait, no. I don't know. I guess if you wanted me to - you bastard, stop laughing - "

Kisuke muffles his chuckles into Ichigo's shoulder. His fingers are working at the clasp of Ichigo's jeans and Ichigo sets his teeth on Kisuke's ear, running his tongue along the edge and relishing in the stutter it causes in his voice when he says, "A-ah, forgive me, but the look on your face..."

"Do you want to fuck me or not?"

"Oh, my dear," Kisuke says, voice dropping low and intimate, "I always want to fuck you."

"Get on with it, then," Ichigo snaps — and Kisuke's smile sharpens, his gaze heavy with intent and calculation and that scientific detachment that never fails to send a shiver up Ichigo's spine.

"So impatient," he murmurs, and lifts his hands to Ichigo's shoulders to push him away. "Very well. Clothes off."

Kisuke's tone is unyielding. Ichigo's heartbeat jumps in his chest and a protest rests behind his teeth but he does what Kisuke says, leaving his clothing in a pile on the floor. The air in the lab is cold, now, and Ichigo feels his skin prickling under Kisuke's focused regard. Goosebumps rise on his arms but Kisuke says, "Come here," before Ichigo can do much more than shiver there, and then Kisuke's hands are on his hips, reeling him gently in. Ichigo, drawn into the space between his spread legs, tips his head down; Kisuke smiles into the kiss and slides a hand down to Ichigo's ass.

Ichigo doesn't quite jump, but Kisuke's amusement glitters in his eyes. "I thought you wanted me to get on with it, Ichigo-kun," he murmurs, and pulls Ichigo down to straddle him. Ichigo makes an attempt at reaching for Kisuke's half-interested cock, but Kisuke bats his hand away. "Hands to yourself, please."

"Like you listen to me," Ichigo mutters, and Kisuke laughs and kisses him again, taking Ichigo's hand in his own. He guides them down to Ichigo's cock, where he wraps his fingers around the base and starts jerking him off, far too slow.

"I always listen to you," Kisuke says, still smiling. "What I do about it, however..."

Ichigo rocks into Kisuke's fist, frustrated; he's fully hard now, but that just makes the languid pace worse. "So you're being a dick on purpose."

"I only wish for you to enjoy yourself," Kisuke says mildly, "do I really deserve such insults, Ichigo-kun?"

His grip's too loose, the lack of friction unbearable; Ichigo's torn between shoving Kisuke's hand off and doing it himself or finding the lube he knows must be somewhere nearby. His choices are made irrelevant a moment later when Kisuke must read his mind, both letting go and reaching around him for a jar.

"It's not enjoying myself if I have to do all the work," Ichigo says pointedly when Kisuke looks on the verge of handing it over to him, and Kisuke attempts an innocent look that's ruined by the gleam in his eyes.

"No complaints, then," Kisuke bargains, eyes sly and half-lidded as he presses a soft kiss to the corner of Ichigo's mouth, then to the line of his throat. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

Ichigo knows what Kisuke's care is like: throwing him straight in the deep end, each and every time. From Shinigami powers to life-or-death battles, it isn't as if Ichigo didn't know beforehand just what he was like, but Kisuke applies his usual methods to their relationship with equanimity. The first time he took Ichigo to bed he kept him on the edge for what felt like hours, until he was shaking and overwhelmed and mindless with desire, until passing over the brink of orgasm felt like falling too hard and too fast. There's little Kisuke won't do in the name of a project, and when that project is Ichigo —

"Yeah, we'll see," Ichigo says, just to be contrary, and Kisuke's amused smile shows him he knows it. "I'm pretty hard to impress."

"Oh?" Kisuke asks, and kisses him again.

This isn't like before, fond or familiar or comforting; this is Kisuke's focus bent to one, singular goal. Kisuke's stubble rasps against Ichigo's skin and he takes full advantage of Ichigo's indolence to kiss him like he means it, the hot wet slide of his tongue against Ichigo's as intent as the way one of his hands curls around Ichigo's neck, keeping him close. Kisuke's reiatsu burns with heat as it encroaches on Ichigo's own the same way he's kissing Ichigo: painstakingly thorough, like he'll have him and nothing more. Ichigo feels himself responding to that single-minded desire like a plant turned to the sun, exploiting his leverage to bury a hand in Kisuke's hair all the better to tilt his head and taste the aftermath of the tea he was drinking on his tongue. Ichigo's self-control is all but gone by the time Kisuke pulls back to let him breathe, but Kisuke just tugs him in closer until they're skin to skin, kissing him again with a hand on his ass, gentle fingers seeking their goal.

Ichigo wants to pull away as much as he wants to pull him closer, that yawning ache of _want_ narrowed down to those bare points of contact, Kisuke's hands, Kisuke's mouth. Kisuke's oiled fingers press inside him and Ichigo pushes back, already wanting more. A noise, barely suppressed, rises in his throat; Kisuke's fingers work him open slow and certain, and it's nowhere near enough.

"Fuck," Ichigo gets out, "Kisuke, c'mon - "

A thrust of Kisuke's fingers sends a shiver of pleasure through Ichigo's nerves, and the next twist is a flush of sensation that's so close to being just what he wants. "Patience," Kisuke murmurs into Ichigo's ear, a breath of warm air that makes him explicitly conscious of the promise in his voice, and Ichigo swears.

"Fuck patience," he says, and because he knows just what it does to Kisuke, adds with deliberate sincerity, "please."

Kisuke's gaze is burning; Ichigo meets his eyes without censure or fear, just the tangle of emotions in his chest. It's understanding and attraction, desire married to intrinsic trust, the warm thrill of _liking_ someone that's slowly deepened to something Ichigo won't yet voice out loud. Kisuke holds his gaze for a few long moments before he drops it, smile turning crooked and fond. "You'll ruin me, Ichigo-kun," he says like a secret, and Ichigo scoffs.

"You're joking, right? You know I won't let you fall."

Kisuke shakes his head, eyes dancing with wry amusement, and kisses him again. Ichigo lets him keep it simple and sweet for only a moment before he surges forward, one hand in Kisuke's hair, the other dropping down between them. Kisuke's fingers curl inside him and Ichigo shifts forward, his cock sliding against Kisuke's, and thinks of wrapping a hand around them both —

"What did I say about your hands?" Kisuke chides, taking up Ichigo's free hand with his and lacing their fingers together. His other hand he pulls out, leaving Ichigo bereft and uncomfortably empty, oil trickling down his thighs. "Ah, to have the libido of a teenager."

"Perverted old man," Ichigo accuses without heat, and watches with greedy eyes as Kisuke oils his hand and fists his own cock. "You finally going to get to the point?"

"Slander," Kisuke says lightly, mouth curving in a pleased smirk. "I do hope you won't regret asking, Ichigo-kun. Up, now."

Ichigo scrambles to his feet with little grace and even less purpose, if the way Kisuke hauls him back in is any indication. But no — Kisuke's arm is wrapped around his waist, his free hand bracing his thighs, and Ichigo's spine hits Kisuke's chest and stays there, held in close. He has no doubt Kisuke feels the hitch in his chest, the way Kisuke's cock nudging at his ass makes him shiver, whole-bodied. Kisuke presses his lips to the place beneath Ichigo's ear, says, "Easy," and nudges Ichigo's knees apart as he lowers him slowly down. The blunt head of his cock rests against Ichigo, now, and Ichigo can't help the sound he makes as it breaches him, stretching him wide. "Relax," Kisuke says, "I have you."

He does. Kisuke holds him still with deceptive strength until Ichigo's muscles stop trembling, until he can breathe again. He feels the frantic beat of his heart and the sweat beading on his skin; he feels Kisuke's speeding pulse against his skin, close enough it could be mistaken for his own. The discomfort swiftly fades to the awareness that he isn't full _enough_ , that he aches, wanting and empty, for the full length of Kisuke's cock. Impatience bites again at his heels and Ichigo says, "Thought you were - getting on with it - "

His breath catches when Kisuke lets him go, enough for Ichigo to sink down onto him an inch, then two. Ichigo forces his muscles to relax as he takes him in, with that exquisite burn that's more pleasure than pain. He's stretched open and held close; he can feel the hitch in Kisuke's throat and the control he exerts, muscles taut, as Ichigo gradually takes him in to the root. Shakily, Ichigo exhales. Kisuke hides his smile into the bare curve of Ichigo's shoulder, and Ichigo can feel every breath he takes in the rise and fall of his chest, in the heavy weight and fullness of his cock filling Ichigo up.

It's a steady pressure against Ichigo's nerves, the sensation heady, unignorable. Ichigo's body settles around it and when he shifts his weight on Kisuke's thighs, grasping for leverage, Kisuke runs light fingers down his side, curling around his much-neglected cock. "Relax," Kisuke says, again, as if Ichigo can't feel the faint tremors in his chest when Ichigo clenches around him. "I've found myself such a demanding lover."

"You're lucky is what you are," Ichigo manages. He gets himself up a half-inch before he loses traction and grinds down onto Kisuke's lap, relishing in the breathless sound Kisuke muffles against his hair. A groan escapes his throat as Kisuke gets his hand on him, all efficiency and short, sharp jerks of his wrist, pleasure that derails any more attempts. "Weren't you - fuck!"

Kisuke twists his wrist and Ichigo's suddenly struggling to hold himself off. He wants to move, to thrust into Kisuke's fist and have Kisuke fuck him until he tumbles over the deteriorating cliff of his control; he wants more, and his hips jerk without conscious thought. "Not quite," Kisuke says, his voice like he's trying to match his usual flippancy and can't quite make it, "no matter how tempting you are, Ichigo-kun. My, what I wouldn't give to have a whole weekend to lay you down and find exactly what makes you come apart..."

Maybe it's that, the bone-deep knowledge that Kisuke would and the intensity of his singular focus, or maybe it's the swift jerk of Kisuke's hand around his cock. Maybe it's the way Kisuke fucks into him; once, twice, a half-dozen times, the angle of his hips driving him even deeper and setting Ichigo's nerves alight. Ichigo cries out and comes all over Kisuke's fingers and still Kisuke doesn't let up, working him through his orgasm until Ichigo's cock starts to soften and the pull of his hand starts to feel less pleasurable than strange.

Ichigo tugs at Kisuke's wrist and says, "Hey," still on the edge of breathlessness, still trembling through the aftershocks that aren't helped by Kisuke's nails skimming across his thigh. "Hey, wait - "

Kisuke rode out Ichigo's orgasm with a fixated stillness, muscles tense with impeccable control. Ichigo still feels goosebumps work their way up his skin when Kisuke murmurs, "Mm, if you say so," and lifts his hand, as if he's examining Ichigo's come streaked across it in the light. Ichigo hears more than sees him bring it to his mouth, the sound of his tongue slick and obscene and reminding him — though he couldn't possibly forget — that Kisuke hasn't moved, that Kisuke's cock still rests hot and heavy inside him.

It's almost a relief, that he's not yet pressing his advantage. Kisuke presses careful kisses to Ichigo's hairline and the shell of his ear and Ichigo feels odd, stretched full and strangely restless, like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. "What," he says, after a long moment, and experimentally grinds down a little, though the press of Kisuke's cock, the sensation on his already-sensitive nerves makes him shudder. "Kisuke, you haven't - "

He cuts himself off.

"Hm?" Kisuke says, almost back to his usual light tone, breathing to an even seven-count Ichigo's only just noticed. Ichigo can feel his smile in his voice. "I haven't what?"

"You haven't..." Ichigo's mind is trickling back to him like water from a tap, slow and interrupted by the way Kisuke lightly scrapes his fingernails over the skin of his stomach, his hand creeping up to Ichigo's chest as if he's chasing the shivers that run across Ichigo's skin. "You said... 'not quite'."

"Not quite yet," Kisuke says now, with unmistakable amusement. "I did tell you to have patience, Ichigo-kun. Though perhaps it worked out for the best."

"For the best," Ichigo echoes, skin prickling where Kisuke's stubble brushes against the bruises he's sucked into Ichigo's neck and shoulder. Ichigo can feel the warmth of his body behind him, Kisuke's heartbeat at his spine and the heat of him still inside, and yet he feels almost cold from the sweat slowly drying on his skin. "Seriously?"

"You're far less pushy after an orgasm." Kisuke's hand brushes over Ichigo's pebbled nipples and Ichigo makes a discontent sound, shifting on Kisuke's lap as the sensation hovers between discomfort and pleasure, his muscles tightening around Kisuke's cock. Kisuke barely seems to notice, just hums thoughtfully into Ichigo's hair and hooks his chin over his shoulder. "If you're this pliant after one, I wonder how you are after two...?"

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Ichigo says with feeling, because it's obvious, now, Kisuke coaxing his body into an arousal response even when Ichigo feels over-sensitized and too close; even the thought makes Ichigo's nerves tingle like he's not as far from it as he should be. "Kisuke..."

"That is the idea," Kisuke says, his voice a low vibration in his chest, "though - as I've said - not quite yet."

Then, as if Ichigo on his lap is little but an ornament Kisuke can't bring himself to remove, he reaches around Ichigo for the pen he's discarded and, for all intents and purposes, appears to go right back to work.

If Ichigo hadn't thought paperwork was the bane of his existence before, it's now rapidly gaining its place. Kisuke's desk is at an awkward angle for Ichigo to see what he's doing but he's relentlessly distracted: by Kisuke's free hand, skating lightly over his ribs as it heads further south, by the shift of his weight that makes Ichigo entirely too conscious of how exposed he is, pinned to Kisuke's lap, still stretched open around his cock. If Kisuke weren't _Kisuke_ Ichigo might think it was absentmindedness that kept Ichigo on edge with every bare touch, with every breath he takes - but Kisuke is the sort to enjoy it.

"And here I thought I was distracting you," Ichigo manages to get out with barely a waver in his voice. Kisuke's set one hand around Ichigo's softened cock - not pushing nor pulling, just skin against skin in a way that trembles on his nerves — while the other is scratching away with pen on paper, apparently fully content to wait until he's done. "If you're just going to - "

Kisuke's fingers tighten, a twist in his wrist that draws an atavistic sound from Ichigo's throat; he's teetering on the knife's edge of arousal and pain and his cock twitches in Kisuke's grip, far too soon.

"Don't tell me you want _more_ attention, Ichigo-kun," Kisuke says mildly, his sly smile obvious in his voice. "You seem to be struggling already, and considering you pulled me away from these unfortunately essential permit renewals I thought I would take the opportunity to finish them while I could."

"...permit renewals?" curiosity drives Ichigo to ask as he grasps for some semblance of control. His thoughts struggle to reach clarity, with every bare point of contact between them impossible to ignore: the warmth of Kisuke's body and the hot stretch of him inside him, the way Kisuke's thumb runs along the underside of his cock and his nerves shiver under the assault. He wonders for a moment if Kisuke will push further, if he'll take Ichigo in hand and start to force it until Ichigo can't even think past the hard length of his cock still filling him, past Kisuke's fist jerking him off — but perhaps Kisuke sees how close to that edge he's already heading, because he briefly sets his pen down to run a soothing hand down the goosebumps on Ichigo's arm.

"Easy, now," Kisuke murmurs, and relents enough to drop his hand from Ichigo's still-oversensitive cock to his thigh, to give Ichigo the steady cadence of his voice to focus on. "Yes, permit renewals - the hazard of running a business in the living world, I fear."

Ichigo manages a curious sound, and Kisuke obliges him, expounding on regulations that might be interesting if Ichigo wasn't so unsteadily balanced on the ragged edge of arousal, wasn't immensely conscious of every faint twitch of Kisuke's cock inside him when he moves. The low thrum of his voice that Ichigo can feel pressed against his spine, the way he stops teasing Ichigo's arousal back into being, it's almost helping — except that suddenly, like a switch being flipped, Ichigo is aching for _more_.

Ichigo shifts forward, grinds his hips down, and revels in the way it makes Kisuke stall mid-word, in the way his muscles tense as he works for self-control. "What were you saying?" Ichigo says, not quite breathless as he tries it again, and Kisuke huffs a laugh into his hair as his grip tightens on Ichigo's thigh.

"You brought this upon yourself," he says with amusement, and reaches down to caress the sensitive skin of Ichigo's balls, then further; to the place which makes Ichigo's breath catch in his chest, to the aching rim where he's still stretched wide. Ichigo's heartbeat stutters as Kisuke's fingers slick on the oil that's dripped out of him, when he presses his fingers against the base of his cock in Ichigo as if — no, he can't be —

"Next time," Kisuke says, voice laden with wicked intent, and Ichigo's trembling by the time he brings his hand back to Ichigo's hard, aching cock.

It's too much; it's nowhere near enough. Ichigo fucks himself on Kisuke's cock as well as he can but it isn't what he _wants_ , not when Kisuke's slender fingers tighten on his hip and his hips jerk in tiny irrepressible motions, not when he can intimately feel Kisuke's cock filling to full hardness inside him. His hands grasp at the table edge and he shifts enough that he's hitting his prostate and sending sparks of fast-building arousal up his spine but Ichigo still wants more. Ichigo wants Kisuke to fuck him. "Do it already," he gets out through his teeth, and Kisuke kisses his neck and draws his nails lightly over the too-sensitive skin of Ichigo's cock.

"Patience," he says, somewhat unsteadily. "I'm almost done. If you'd have waited earlier - "

"Oh, like you'd have let me - " Ichigo clenches down around his cock and Kisuke's hand jerks on him as he swears, muffled, into Ichigo's shoulder; Ichigo's orgasm takes him entirely by surprise and he comes erratically over Kisuke's hand and thighs. He feels strangely disoriented, so tightly wound he might break with it; wavering, he says, "Kisuke, _please_ \- "

Perhaps it's that that convinces him. Kisuke's eyes are tightly shut when he wraps his arms around Ichigo's waist and lifts him up; Ichigo's legs barely hold him as Kisuke turns him around, letting him wrap himself around him as Kisuke stumbles to the unrolled futon in the corner. He must have left it there the night before, Ichigo thinks hazily, that time he didn't — and his back hits the futon when Kisuke drops him. 

For a moment, Ichigo feels cold and terribly empty, devoid of Kisuke's warmth and Kisuke's touch and Kisuke's cock. Kisuke looks down on him like he's something to be devoured and Ichigo aches for him to take it; his legs are spread as he reaches out, and his voice trembles when he says again, "Please - "

"Yes," Kisuke says, drops to his knees, and slams his cock home.

Ichigo's muscles are already quivering; Ichigo's already had more than he can take. Kisuke fucks him through his nerves screaming out, fucks him through his gritted teeth, hitting his largely-ignored prostate with every thrust. Ichigo braces his legs on Kisuke's shoulders and takes him in deeper; Kisuke fucks him through the shaking overstimulation to the point where the onslaught of too-much sensation turns into something more.

Ichigo sinks into the sharp pleasure jolting through him with every thrust, the ache of abused muscles fading to the hot satisfaction of Kisuke's cock. Kisuke's fingers dig into his hips hard enough to leave bruises and he's making practically no sound apart from the harsh breath of his exertion; he's watching Ichigo, fixated, and Ichigo looks up and holds his gaze. Kisuke wants him, Ichigo's never doubted it, but the sheer intensity of the all-consuming desire in his eyes —

Kisuke says, roughly, "Ichigo - "

Kisuke comes, unsteadily, filling Ichigo up; Ichigo's shaking from it, from the heat of his come inside him and the way his own cock twitches and leaks, as though he'd be coming again too if he hadn't already been milked dry. Kisuke lets Ichigo's legs fall, drops himself to the futon beside him, and Ichigo breathes out and doesn't protest when Kisuke pulls him close.

When he kisses him, he misses Ichigo's mouth the first two times. Ichigo laughs breathlessly and manages to hook a hand around the back of Kisuke's neck to press his mouth to Kisuke's jaw, and says, still a little cockstruck, "Wow."

Kisuke shakes his head, amused. His smile warms Ichigo through, like the hand he sets on Ichigo's waist, like the heat of his body beside him; it soothes the empty feeling of Kisuke's come leaking out of him, the lack of his warmth so close. "You really are a terrible distraction," he says after a while, threading a hand through Ichigo's hair, nails scraping at his scalp. "You couldn’t wait an hour or two?"

"Mm," Ichigo says. "No."

Kisuke peers at him and Ichigo determinedly pillows his head in his arms, setting his elbows on Kisuke's chest. "Next time," Kisuke threatens, "I'll be prepared."

"Yeah?" Ichigo's mouth turns up at the corners, and he lifts his head to stare Kisuke down. "Who's to say I won't be?"

"Promises, promises," Kisuke says, smirking, and flips them over, laughing, to kiss him once more.


End file.
